


Deisidaimonia

by Redofthewolves, VigilantShadow



Series: Spooky Scoops [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Multi, Season 4 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redofthewolves/pseuds/Redofthewolves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantShadow/pseuds/VigilantShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Michael Bennett’s wife Josephine burned up on the ceiling, he took his son on the road to find revenge. Years later, Castiel is forced to locate his prodigal brother Gabriel, who ran away from home and became the proprietor of Spooky Scoops, an ice cream van. After selling his soul to Hell to raise his brother, Castiel has found himself topside again. A reverse!verse take on season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Birth of Venus (4.01)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first official chapter in the Spooky Scoops Verse! Liz and I have been working hard on this world, and we're excited to finally start publishing.
> 
> Some other things: this verse has a blog at [spooky-scoops.tumblr.com](http://spooky-scoops.tumblr.com/), and if you follow the tag [#spoopy spoops](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/spoppy+spoops) you can see live updates as we write and discuss the fic.
> 
> Rating will change in the future, due to sexual scenes.
> 
> Special thanks to [tumblr user televism](http://televism.tumblr.com/) for being our beta.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Castiel Novak pulls himself out of the sea, it's to find that he has also been pulled out of hell by some unknown force by the name of Decanusel.

Darkness. Bubbles. Flashes of Hell skittered out of his mind, like a dream already starting to fade. Castiel opened his eyes in an attempt to discern his surroundings and felt the sting of saltwater. Wherever he was, it was very poorly lit. It was also filled with water, which meant he didn’t particularly want to stay. He tried to propel himself upward, but was prevented by a solid obstacle. His fingers ran across it, taking in the familiar sensation of wet wood. A similar surface barred his escape on either side and at his back, and he forced down the alarm that rushed through him at the thought of containment. Aware that he was running out of time to escape, he kicked on his cage once - hard - and the rotting box gave way. In his haste, he hardly noticed when a snag in the shattered planks of his prison tore his pant leg. Castiel swam upward, lungs burning. He was floundering, lost, until his head broke surface.

Castiel Bennett was in the middle of the ocean.

He cleared his nose, wiping the water out of his eyes while he tried to get his bearings. It was dusk, and the sea breeze was already starting to dry Castiel’s dark hair. He was weighted down by his clothing, his nice suit - which he wasn’t wearing when he died - soaked and feeling twice as heavy as usual.

It suddenly hit Castiel that he needed to find a way out of the water before his legs gave way. He scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of which way to swim. Panic started to sink in when he saw no signs of life or land, but he calmed when a shine of light caught his eye: a green shrimping boat glided towards him, his boat in shining armor. Castiel treaded water until the boat got close enough, and then flailed his limbs as much as he could to get the boat’s attention. After a minute or so, the boat veered off course, heading his way. He sank back into the water, conserving his energy until the boat reached him.

He was alive, and he was going to stay that way.

* * *

Needless to say, the fishermen aboard _The Sea Nymph_ were as confused as Castiel was as to why he was three miles off the Santa Barbara coast. The sailor who hauled him out of the water, a black man in a beanie, shouted to someone else on the boat to abandon the net they had just pulled in and instead fetch a towel from the lower decks. “Jesus- okay, sit down here,” he muttered, helping Cas to sit on a metal bench, “What the hell are you doing so far from shore? You get riptided or something?”

Castiel shook his head, still in shock and trying to clear his head of water. “No, I- uh, the boat I was waiting tables on had a drunk captain. I got tossed off, and must have gotten knocked out,” he lied, almost disappointed in himself for falling into the habit so easily. “Ow,” he added half-heartedly, rubbing his head on his imaginary injury.

By then, the other man had gotten Castiel a towel, wrapping it around his shoulders. Castiel thanked him, using it to dry off his hair. “You’re lucky to be alive, my friend,” the fisherman- Dylan, the other man had called him- laughed, thumping him on the shoulder.

The sudden contact made Castiel jump, becoming hyper aware of his body. He hissed, undoing the buttons on his drying button down, and pulled it open. In the middle of his chest, red and raised, lay a burn in the shape of a handprint. It looked as if something had tried to tug his heart out of him. Or shoved him.

Dylan’s eyebrows raised so far they were obscured by his hat.

“Cattle brand accident,” Castiel lied quickly.

* * *

Cas thanked the fishermen, assuring them that he could find his way home from the docks. He didn’t need to confuse them by explaining that his home was a traveling ice cream truck run by his brother who may or may not still be alive.

The Santa Barbara skyline was beginning to darken, and Castiel quickly lost his way in the maze of warehouses and processing plants. He sat down on a stairway to rest, wet shoes still making an ungodly squelching noise. He rested his forehead in his palms, taking a few moments to breathe.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Castiel turned to look behind him at the man who was trying to exit the doorway he was blocking. A tall man wearing a plastic apron was looking at Castiel, concern turning down the corners of his mouth, as he removed his thick rubber gloves.

“Yes,” Castiel responded, trying to wring some water out of his suit, “I just seem to have lost my way.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” the man huffed, draping his gloves over the railing. “Hey, stay there, I’ll be right back,” he said suddenly, disappearing back into the building. Castiel frowned, but remained where he was. Something poked him in the foot, and he removed his shoe to find a dead fish tucked in his instep. He sighed.

The door swung open again, and Castiel turned to see the man had returned with a bundle of items. “Okay, here. You’re gonna get cold, so take the jacket, alright? And some money for some food or a hotel room or something-”

“I really can’t accept-” Castiel started to refuse, standing to face the man.

“No, you’re taking this stuff. Consider it karma,” the man joked, his smile not quite meeting his eyes.

Castiel took a deep breath, before taking the offered items from the man. He unfolded the cloth to reveal a plastic bag with $200 dollars wrapped in a slightly-worn trench coat. He slipped the money into his pocket and looked up to thank the man, but he already appeared to have left.

Apart from a few moments of confusion, Castiel didn’t dwell on it too much. He turned back to the path and slid the trench coat on. His tie had been flipped backwards. He didn’t fix it.

* * *

Traveling in his brother’s van had always helped Castiel learn to sleep on the road, so the eight hour bus ride from Santa Barbara to Oakland passed quickly. Castiel was almost amused thinking that a man who had just come back to life could sleep so much. The bus dropped him off in downtown Oakland, if it could be called that: the retail district consisted of about two blocks of stores, none of which were operating with full enthusiasm. As such, the area was never really busy with people or traffic. Castiel decided to save him money anyway and walk the twelve blocks to Chuck’s house, as tired as he felt.

Once he reached the rickety construction, he regarded the small stairway up to the door with irritation. It took a good measure of his limited remaining strength to climb the hill it was perched on, reach out, and knock on the dirty red door.

Silence followed, and Castiel reached up to try again. Before he could the door creaked open to a scruffy looking Chuck Shurley, clad in a bathrobe, undershirt, and a pair of shorts that had definitely seen better days. Chuck’s expression didn’t change as he looked Castiel up and down, locked in a resigned exhaustion that pursed his lips and cast shadows on his gray eyes.

“Don’t even try,” Chuck sighed, and slammed the door in Cas’ face.

Castiel knocked again. No response, though this time the hunter had a feeling it wasn’t due to a delayed reaction.

“Chuck!” he yelled, “It’s me. Castiel. Answer the door.”

“No,” The other man’s voice was quiet, muffled by the wall separating them.

“Fine. I’ll prove it’s me. Drop a silver knife through the mail slot.”

There was a pause, and then the mail slot opened, a silver knife thrown past Castiel to skitter into the grass behind him.

Castiel huffed slightly and turned around, bending over to pick the knife up. He recognized it as one of his father’s old ones. The blade was chipped a little where it had once collided with a concrete wall in a poorly-advised throwing competition between Chuck and Gabriel, but was otherwise unremarkable. It was a practical weapon, one with which Chuck had enough sentimental connection to not mind being stabbed by, if whatever creature he thought Castiel was managed to get inside, but not so much connection to mind the possibility of losing it.

By the time Castiel had turned back to the door, Chuck had moved to one of the side windows, pushing back the blinds to watch. Castiel raised his arm and the knife, and drew the blade across the flat of his arm, making sure to avoid going too deep or hitting any major veins. He pulled it away, and waved his arm to show that he hadn’t been affected.

Chuck nodded nervously, as if he was almost afraid of this outcome. The blinds fell back into place and Castiel slipped the knife into his pocket. The door opened again. Castiel had just enough time to see Chuck again before he was splashed with water, directly in the face.

“Sorry about that,” Chuck apologized, handing him a small towel, “I, uh, had to make sure.”

Castiel pushed past him, wiping his face off. “I spent hours on a bus making myself dry. Thank you for that,” he grumbled, hanging his trench coat on one of the wall pegs. Chuck winced.

“Oh. Yeah. The whole ocean thing.”

“And do you know how ‘the whole ocean thing’ happened?” The two men made their way through the entryway and into the living room. Cas took his customary seat at the table to the left of the door, facing toward the window, and Chuck plopped down across from him, picking up his half finished drink. He considered it for a moment, then took a long swig. Castiel took the opportunity to peel off his salt-stiff suit jacket.

“Gabe couldn’t burn you, after you died,” Chuck paused, probably considering the event. It had been bloody, Castiel was sure, invisible Hellhounds ripping into his flesh. Cas hadn’t considered that at the time, too preoccupied by his own screaming.

“How does that translate into an aquatic burial?”

“It was my suggestion, actually. Since we couldn’t give you, y’know, a proper send off, we had to do _something_ to make sure you didn’t come back, especially given, um, where you went. I figured that the ocean was deep enough that no one would find your body, and it had enough salt to keep away demons or ghosts. Oh. And we used some of your furniture wood to make your coffin. Sorry.”

“That’s alright. You didn’t think I would be needing it.”

Chuck stared for a long moment, then stood, walked over to Cas, and hauled him to his feet, wrapping his arms around the hunter. Unused to contact after his months dead, it took Castiel a moment to return the embrace with a single, tight squeeze before letting go. Chuck returned to his seat, mouth twitching with embarrassment, but no regret of the gesture.

“I guess you’ll want to tell Gabriel you're not dead anymore.”

“Yes. Do you have his current number?” Chuck shook his head.

“He dropped it in a toilet, and I never got the new one,” he admitted, “Look... when you died, it- He hasn’t been the same. I think he blamed himself, and I couldn’t convince him it wasn’t because, you know, you sold your soul to bring him back. He got really intense about hunting, and when I told him to slow down he ran off.”

“So you have no idea where he is?” Castiel began running possibilities through his head. It would be hard work, but he could probably track his older brother down if he called in a few favors and begged the right people for help. His thoughts were cut off, however, when Chuck answered.

“No, no. I know where he is.”

“How?”

“Well,” Chuck pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and played around with it for a few moments, then slid it across the table, “He might have gone all hardcore boogeyman-killer, but he never got the paranoia part right. He updated his facebook.”

“And?”

“Facebook tells you where people make their posts at. He’s in Santa Barbara, and I think he’s drunk. Or he just forgot how to spell properly. I’m not sure.”

Cas looked down at the screen, which was horribly dim, squinting to read it. Sure enough, there was a status, below the name Hugh Jass - Castiel’s least favorite of his brother’s aliases - and sure enough, it was terribly spelled.

 _Tired pf dtama._ Followed very closely by a comment of _*Tired of dramma._ Then * _Tired of...You know what I fucking mean._ Castiel considered the text in front of him for a moment then, very slowly, allowed his head to fall and hit the table.

“I _just came_ from Santa Barbara,”  he groaned, and Chuck at least had the decency to look sympathetic.

“I’d give you a ride but...I don’t think you want to sit on the back of my bicycle.”

* * *

Castiel attempted to sleep that night, but instead found himself awaking from a fitful rest at five in the morning. He pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of most likely dirty jeans and silently exited his room, which he had been unsurprised to find was in the same state as before his death - but incredibly thankful, as it meant his bus card and some spare clothes were still in the top dresser drawer - and through the basement floor of Chuck’s house. It was an easy feat, but once he reached the rickety stairs he was met with a challenge. Cas took a deep breath before setting about the difficult task of ascending to the top floor without causing a racket.

After narrowly avoiding the rotten fifth step, the slippery seventh step, and the ninth step that sounded a little like a plague victim, he reached the top floor. He left a note about his whereabouts for Chuck, slipped on a simple black jacket, grabbed the silver knife from his new trench, and stepped out onto the dark street.

Castiel arrived at the bus station about two minutes before the first bus, a fact for which he was thankful, as the young indian woman sitting beside him was giving him far too much attention - and reminded him too much of Gabriel’s deceased girlfriend - for comfort. He managed to restrain a sigh of relief when she didn’t follow him onto the vehicle, but that calm was stolen from him when he glanced back at the stop and found it empty.

He shut his eyes and tried to put it out of mind. Unsurprisingly, sleep eluded him, and when he reached Santa Barbara once more the momentary encounter still lingered at the back of his mind. His furtive glances as he stepped off the bus earned him a few strange looks, but he ignored them.

The realization that he had no idea where Gabriel was staying did not help his mood. The next few hours were spent on a library computer- using a card number and pin stolen via a glance at the librarian’s computer- researching local hotels. Most he dismissed as too costly for his older sibling, but he was still left with a list of seven hotels. Luckily, his brother drove a very noticeable vehicle, and he needed no more than a cursory look around the parking lots of the first six to eliminate them as possibilities. The long walks between locations did not help his rapidly declining mood, but if he had had to convince every receptionist to tell him whether Gabriel had booked a room he might have committed homicide.

At the seventh motel, he found what he was looking for. In the corner of the lot was a large, green ice cream truck emblazoned with the logo Spooky Scoops. Unless the older Bennett had somehow started a successful chain in seven and a half months, Castiel had found his brother.

The Lucky Strikes Motel was poorly maintained, gaudily decorated by faded bowling paraphernalia and staffed by a bored looking teenager named Paul. When Castiel asked him for Gabriel’s room, Paul jerked his head to the side to get the hair out of his eyes and said something about company policy. Castiel rolled his eyes, sliding a twenty across the desk, and Paul’s attitude improved immensely.

“Room 102,” the boy simpered with a smile that was much less attractive than he probably thought it was. Cas thanked him and departed, relieved that he didn’t have to walk far.

When he reached the door, he knocked and waited.

Gabriel opened the door ever so slightly, peering at Cas with one eye from underneath the chain. He looked even more burnt out than Chuck, only his exhaustion was desperate instead of resigned. It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, and when he did, the hopelessness on his face was replaced by an angry blankness.

“Who are you and what are you doing with my brother’s face?” The barrel of a gun appeared from the crack, a few inches from Castiel’s stomach.

“Well, it is _mine_ , so I think I’m entitled,” Castiel deadpanned. He heard an intake of breath from Gabe and imagined his sibling puffing up with rage.

“I might not have much of a right to tell someone to stop joking, given my personality. But I’m telling you to stop joking. Now.”

Castiel sighed, looking down at the bandage around his earlier wound, and used the same silver knife to cut into the forearm of his other arm. Gabriel stared at the blood as it dripped from the wound, the tension around his eyes fading. Before Cas could react, the door was unlocked and flung open, and Gabriel had him in an almost painfully tight hug. Castiel was faster to respond to this embrace than he was to Chuck’s, and it lasted longer, stretching into a comfortable silence that was punctuated with the occasional hitching breath from Gabriel.

“Ooh, who’s this? _I_ was led to believe you were unattached,” A man leered from behind Gabriel, his smile as slick and oily as his voice.

“No, this is-” Gabe pulled away, keeping close by Castiel’s side. The stranger held up a hand to silence him.

“Don’t bother, I know when my cue to leave is,” He made to move past the brothers, then stopped, brushing his fingers against Gabriel’s face,“Oh, and make sure to call, will you Gabe? You have to make up for the interruption. And for not being truthful with me.”

Castiel stared after him as he left, then turned back to a slightly sputtering Gabriel.

“Were you going to...?” Castiel questioned, making hopeless hand motions.

“Going to what?”

“You’re straight.”

“I never said that.”

“It was implied.”

“I’d never expect that sort of heteronormativity from a card carrying queer like you, Cas,” Gabriel had pulled himself together somewhat, though his expression was a bit more openly fond than he usually allowed himself to be.

“I’m just-”

“Yeah, I know,” Gabriel made a dismissive gesture, “Luke’s the only guy I’ve ever, you know.”

“So this isn’t the first time you’ve met, I take it?”

“No,” Gabe scratched his nose absently, “I mean, it’s not like we quite have a _thing_ per say. Just once or twice. He’s a good distraction from...you know,” He gestured toward Cas, then seemed to become very aware that they were in a public place, “Want to come in and, uh, tell your story?” Cas nodded, following Gabriel back into the room.

“So,” Gabriel turned, sitting on the bed, “How’d you perform Mission Impossible?”

“I was going to ask you the same,” Castiel frowned, confused, “I had assumed you made some sort of deal to free me from hell.”

“I would have loved to,” Gabriel said bitterly, standing up, “But you said not to bother. You died for me. What kind ungrateful douche would I be if I wasted my life trying to get you back?”

Castiel stayed silent, choosing to lean against the wall. “What were you doing here in Santa Barbara?” he asked instead.

“Tracking some demons. They’ve been causing some random problems, but started their own march to the sea a few days ago. I made camp here ‘cause I lost their trail.”

“Do you think it might be connected to the fact my body was dumped off this coast?” Cas asked, “Maybe they’re part of a group meant to reinstate me in this world.”

Gabriel folded his arms, “You think it was a demon that helped you spoon tunnel your way out of the underworld?”

“What else _could_ it be? The Bennetts don’t have any friends with that amount of power.”

“But why would the guys who were so focused on _putting_ you in Hell help you break out? I mean, you’re not a demon, so this wasn’t standard procedure.”

“Maybe it’s a rebel group trying to pull a coup. Or maybe I’m being tested. Either way, there are ways we can find out,” Castiel let out a deep breath, the new plan grounding him. Gabriel nodded, guilt still carving lines on his face. Cas met his brother’s eyes and sighed.

“We should go back to Chuck’s to regroup,” he decided, and Gabe’s expression dissolved into relief at the change of topic.

* * *

Near the end of their drive back to Oakland, Castiel remembered that Chuck’s fridge had been empty of all but beer when he arrived the night before and suggested they stop off at a small diner. Gabriel, eager to interrupt the tense silence, pulled off the highway and into a Denny’s parking lot.

The man at the front counter was old and balding, and he regarded them with a mild disdain. Cas elbowed Gabe in the ribs to stop him from complaining. They were seated quickly, however, and their waitress seemed cheery, in a worn out and matronly sort of way.

Cas flashed her an equally tired smile when she fluttered off to get them their drinks.

“I’m not angry at you,” he sighed, staring at Gabriel with unnerving intensity after they both had a chance to skim the menus and confirm that their favorites were still there. Gabe avoided his gaze, eyes sliding over to the desserts menu.

“I know,” Gabe flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Castiel nodded, and looked out the window, trying to hide his repressed disappointment.

The waitress returned with a water for Castiel and a strawberry milkshake for Gabriel, a kindly smile on her face. “Do you need some more time, sweeties?” She asked when she realized they weren’t looking at their menus.

“No. I’d like the mushroom swiss burger, please,” Castiel replied, keeping his voice quiet and polite as he handed her his menu.

“And I’d like the chocolate chip pancakes,” Gabriel added, smiling broadly.

He held out his menu, but instead of taking it the waitress grabbed his wrist and held it with superhuman strength. She smiled, eyes covered in blackness. Gabe looked around the restaurant just as the rest of the patrons all turned demonic stares at their table.

“Well, it looks like we have a bit of a problem here,” Gabe said to Castiel, who glared at his sarcasm.

“I don’t know if problem would be the right word,” the waitress cooed, grip tightening, “More like opportunity for discussion. You see, me and my compatriots aren’t here to kill you, we’re here to ask little bro a question.”

“I’m listening,” Castiel’s stare was downright venomous, leaning forward. Gabe watched as he palmed the salt shaker out of the demon’s sight line.

“We were just wondering, dear dead little Bennett boy, how exactly you got off the rack.”

Cas met Gabriel’s eyes briefly. “You mean it wasn’t you?” He said slowly, weighing the new fact on his tongue.

“No,” The demon shrugged, “And not any other demon either. Hell’s its own little battleground right now. We’ve got a body count through the roof, but no one to do a suspect sketch on who or what ripped Hell a new one. All we know is that someone wanted your buttered butt badly.”

“Well, that’s more than we know,” Cas said. The demon regarded him for a long moment, running her tongue against her teeth in consideration, then abruptly grabbed Gabriel’s head and slammed his face into the table. She smiled wickedly at Castiel.

“I guess the only thing to do is put you back then,” She jumped at him, and he threw the now open salt shaker at her face. She screamed, more in rage than in pain, and the man at the front desk appeared with a snarl.

“Christo,” Gabe shouted as he sat up, voice slightly distorted by his bleeding nose but not enough to ruin the effect. The assembled demons all winced, and the Cas took the opportunity to push the woman back. The Bennett’s slid out of the booth, Castiel holding up his silver knife and Gabe the small super soaker of holy water he kept tucked beside the pistol in his belt.

“How about no,” Castiel said, and the waitress let out a low growl.

“Fine, fine. But know this, Castiel,” She drew out the syllables, smiling widely, “We’re going to retrieve you, one way or another.”

The Bennett’s escaped the diner, never turning their backs, and slipped into the truck. It was silence, once more, but this quiet was almost a relief: the tenseness was caused by an external conflict, rather than the tangle of emotions between them.

* * *

Cas returned to Chuck’s house about two hours after the encounter at the diner, carrying a bag from a local clothing store and a Thai takeout box from his decidedly less stressful second attempt at dinner. He had purchased a new suit to replaced his salt-encrusted old one, nearly identical aside from a lack of holes, stains, and smell of sea water.

As he approached, he noticed something amiss. The door was propped open, something Chuck would never do given how much he complained about “letting the cold air out”. Castiel removed the gun from his belt, feeling the familiar weight of it in his palm for the first time since his resurrection. He pushed the door open, weapon pointed ahead of him carefully.

Instead of the scene he had feared encountering, he saw Chuck hovering on the edge of the front room, wringing his hands. A stranger faced away from him, discussing something with Chuck in a quiet voice. Castiel put away his gun just as Chuck noticed him.

“Oh! Hey, Castiel. Did you find what you needed?”

“Yes,” Cas held up his purchase, then set it beside the door. “Who is this?” he asked as he nodded politely to the red-headed woman sitting at Chuck’s kitchen table. She jerked her head back in greeting, face solemn. Standing up, the stranger walked over to Cas and held out a hand. He shook it, looking straight into her eyes. When she stared back unperturbed, his estimation of her rose.

“My name is Anna Milton. I’m a psychic,” she stated, not breaking contact with him. She was pretty, but with an abstractly melancholy air about her person that seemed to follow many psychics.

“She can help us figure out what did this,” Chuck added, running a hand through his hair. He smiled at her and she returned the expression, a quick, closed half smile.

“Yeah. And I owed him a favor after he got the Department of Mental Health off my back.”

Chuck shrugged, “I’m sure you would have figured something out. I mean, you aren’t actually crazy.”

“I didn’t know that at the time,” She turned to Cas, explaining, “I can hear things from beyond this world. The whole voices in my head _might_ have gotten me in a bit of trouble with my high school counselor. But I think it will be helpful for finding out what got you out of Hell.”

Anna returned to her seat and Castiel took the one next to her, while Chuck hovered nervously. The door slammed open and the scruffy man jumped, then turned to glare at Gabriel, who ignored the venomous stare with practiced ease.

“What’s up? Did I miss anything? Ooh, who’s this beautiful young lady?” he smiled flirtatiously at Anna, taking the seat across from her at the table.

“My name is Anna Milton, I’m a psychic, and no,” She said, her expression that of a person who often had to deal with such attentions. Gabriel looked hurt for an instant but quickly recovered, shrugging and tipping his chair onto its back two legs. Chuck and Castiel let out a simultaneous sigh at his antics.

“I’ll go get the stuff for the seance,” Chuck said, and disappeared into one of the many rooms in his house that Castiel had never seen.

“So what are you going to be seancing _for_?” Gabriel asked, “Chuck just said to come over.”

“I’m going to see if I can find out what brought your brother back from the dead,” Anna explained.

Gabriel brought the front two legs of his chair back onto the ground. “Oh. Well, that _is_ something important. I would have come faster if I’d known.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Castiel muttered.

“Would too!” Gabriel sounded almost genuinely offended, but his voice had a bit of a slur to it that ruined any attempt at sounding sincere. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“If you were drunk before you found out I was alive, I would have thought it unhealthy but touching. Instead you wait until you know I’m _back_ to disappear for an entire day and then show up obviously intoxicated after drinking alone.”

“I’m not drunk,” Gabriel tapped his fingers against the table hyperactively.

“You’re _something_.”

“And so what if I am, Mr. Recreational Marijuana User?” Gabe’s brow furrowed, but he showed no other outward signs of anger.

“I just think it’s a little fucked up that me being _alive_ is what has you so upset enough to get wasted,” Castiel’s voice was more even then he would have liked given the subject of conversation. Gabe let out a little burst of harsh laughter.

“You have no idea what it was like for me when you were dead,” Gabriel breathed. His voice was low, flat, a lack of inflection there that Castiel recognized from his brother’s fights with their father. It meant that he had stepped over a line, somewhere, and unlike in those strange father-son interactions of the past its clear where that line was.

“Oh,” Cas muttered, not sure what else to say. Because looking at his brother now, he can imagine. Before he could properly apologize, however, Chuck returned. Gabriel shook off the atmosphere of the moment like a dog shook off water, mouth turning up into an easy smile. Chuck looked between the two brothers.

“Did I miss something?”

“No,” Castiel said.

“Yes,” Anna looked down at her nails, “They were having an emotional moment.”

“Yeah, they do that,” Chuck set down the pile of supplies in his arms, “So, this is everything, yeah?”

“Three silver candles, salt, a silver bowl, a nightingale feather,” Anna touched each of the objects as she named them, “Yeah, that’s it. Can you go fill the bowl with water? It doesn’t have to be holy water, but it does need to be filtered.” Chuck nodded and took the bowl into the kitchen. Anna pulled a box of matches from her pocket and lit the candles, placing them in a triangle at the center of the table. When Chuck returned, she took the bowl and poured some salt into the water, stirring it with a spoon handed to her. Then she stood, walking around the table and sprinkling the salt water in a circle. Once finished, she set the half-filled bowl in the center of the shape and set the feather in the water.

“We need to sit in a circle around the table. But stay inside the circle,” The three men arranged themselves. Anna shut off the lights and took her place, “Alright. This will work better with a focus. Do you have something it touched?”

“No I... wait,” Castiel paused, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt and pulling the fabric aside to reveal the handprint seared over his anti-possession tattoo. He’d have to get that redone later. “I believe this belongs to whatever raised me.”

“Good,” Anna muttered, “Now I need everyone to hold hands except for Castiel and myself,” They did, and Anna reached out, her small hand settling over the larger wound. Her touch tingled uncomfortably against his the burn, but Cas swallowed the irritation. Anna shut her eyes, the dim glow of the candles casting dark shadows on her face. Castiel followed her example, closing his eyes. In the darkness, he heard Anna’s voice, professional and practiced.

“Spirit, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us and move among us,” Silence. Castiel felt Chuck’s hand twitching nervously against his.

“Spirit, I command you. Speak to us.” More silence.

“Are you sure this is-” Gabriel’s complaint cut off with a yelp and something that sounded like “My foot!” Anna continued, irritation coloring her voice.

“Speak, spirit. I invoke, conjure and command thee, commune with us and move among us,” She repeated the chant once, twice, her hand pressing slightly harder against Castiel’s chest.

As she finished the third repetition, the darkness in front of Cas’ lids brightened to a rosy red.

“Hello Decanusel,” Anna greeted the light, and Castiel had to resist the urge to open his eyes. The light was familiar, the name less so, but it there was still a tug of recognition when it was spoken aloud, “No, Decanusel, don’t try that with me. Whatever you are, I can handle it,” Castiel heard a low buzzing, like electrical wire, a the center of the table.

“Who are you, and what business do you have with Castiel Bennett?” Anna asked, and there was a moment of silence, “Stop whispering and tell me!”

The light brightened to a painful red, and Castiel screwed his eyes shut. The buzzing grew to an annoying hum, though it was obviously more than just a slight bother for Anna. She let go of his chest with a scream and he heard her chair fall backward over the din. Gabriel also let out a yell, though he seemed to have stayed in his seat.

The light flickered out and Castiel slowly opened his eyes.

The room was dark once more, the candles burnt down to nubs and tipped over, wax spilling across the white table cloth. The feather lay inside the empty bowl, bone dry and singed around the edges. Gabriel was still in his chair, eyes wide and clear of the effects of whatever he had taken before arriving but otherwise seemingly fine. As Castiel watched him, he let out a shuddering breath and relaxed against the hard, wooden chair back. He gave his brother a reassuring nod, and they both turned their heads to look at the fallen medium.

Anna was curled up on the floor, eyes screwed shut and hands clamped over her ears. Chuck knelt at her side, trying to pull her arms away from her head.

“Anna. Anna? It’s over, Anna, it’s gone. You can take away your hands now,” Chuck sounded desperate. After a minute or so, her hazel eyes opened and she turned, meeting Chuck’s gaze. Her hands left her ears, palms covered in blood that continued to stream down the sides of her head.

“Are you okay?” He asked. She shook her head.

“What are you saying?” She asked, voice hitching a little at the end of her sentence, “Oh God. I can’t hear. I can’t hear!”

* * *

Early the next morning, the parking lot of Denny’s was empty. Parked in an alley behind it, however, was a dark green ice cream truck.

Gabriel’s foot tapped arhythmically against the cold pavement behind the diner. He checked his watch and let out a groan. Kali was a full ten minutes late and his nerves were fried. Whatever that light at the seance was, Gabe hated it on principle for burning away the demon blood he had _just_ gotten into his veins. What’s more, it hadn’t eased his craving at all. So instead of doing his _job_ , saving people and getting rid of demons, he was standing outside in the middle of the night and shivering from withdrawal.

“Looking scrawny, shortstop.”

“Kali was supposed to meet me here,” Gabriel shot back, turning around to face the smug demon behind him.

“Aww, does this mean you don’t like _me_?” Lucifer asked, sounding not at all upset. He wasn’t bothering to hide his black eyes; he never did, aside from the few instances where he had to be seen in public.

“Can it, Lucifer. Where is she?” Her absence had him worried, really. Kali had a lot of flaws, but tardiness was not one of them. His anxiety eased when Lucifer let out a put upon sigh. The other demon wouldn’t be so calm if something had happened to the woman who - they both acknowledged - had the two of them whipped.

“She’s around,” Lucifer gestured vaguely, “But she noticed that all that blood I let you drink up this morning is mysteriously gone, and she wants to know what gives.”

“If she’d just let me _call her_ -”

“Too dangerous, now that your dearest bro is walking the earth again. The mousey little researcher would be easy to bullshit, but _Castiel_ might ruin our plans. Or make _you_ ruin them for him.”

“You think I would back out of this because Cas told me to?”

“I _know_ you would back out if your little brother told you to. I know what you are, Gabriel.”

“Whatever. The point is, I could have explained this over the phone.”

“Well too bad. Explain it now.”

“Chuck brought in a medium to try and figure out what sprung Cas from Hell. Whatever it was burned the blood out of me. Do you honestly think I’d get rid of it on purpose?”

“Maybe.”

“You said you know what I am. What I _am_ is a junkie. I’m miserable and crashing right now, Lucy, and I’d appreciate it if you’d help me,” Gabe spat back. Lucifer rolled his eyes at the nickname, but rolled up the sleeve of his shirt nonetheless. Flipping a switchblade out of somewhere, he casually cut into the skin of his wrist and held it out to Gabriel. The hunter grabbed the offered arm and began to drink.

“Not even a thank you,” Lucifer grumbled. Gabriel responded with a middle finger, too distracted to do much else, “I feel unappreciated,” he continued, though this sounded almost fond. Gabe felt the blood drip down his throat, coating it with sticky redness as it slid into his stomach and seemed to fill him up from his toes to the top of his head. Lucifer pulled away just as the blood began to spread into Gabe’s veins, and an abstract part of the hunter’s brain was ashamed of the little whine that escaped his mouth. Then the tickling sensation of a high was upon him, and the petulant noise turned to a euphoric giggle.

“Thank you,” he breathed, smiling.

“That’s better. Now get a hold of yourself. You can’t exorcise demons if you’re busy tripping everywhere and laughing your ass off,” Lucifer chuckled, slapping Gabriel lightly. When the human noticed it was the same arm he had previously drunk from, the mental effort he expended not grabbing it and draining Lucifer dry was enough to bring him back to earth.

“Alright. In I go,” Gabriel smiled and circled the diner, entering from the front.

He didn’t know what he expected to find in the demon-infested restaurant, but a room full of corpses wasn’t it. All of the workers from earlier that day were strewn about the room, unmoving. Gabe tilted back one of their heads and let out an involuntary hiss of sympathy for the monster. Its eyes were burnt out of its sockets, not something he recognized, but the blood dripping from its ears made the things cause of death easy to identify.

“Well don’t you move fast, you interfering asshole?” He was about to stand and leave when a demonic presence appeared off to his left. The waitress who had served them tackled him to the ground and held down his wrists, nails digging into the skin like claws. He struggled against the demon, but she held firm, empty eye sockets blinking down at him.

“What did this?” he asked, and the waitress snarled at him.

“The end of everything, demon blood boy. We’re all going to die, do you understand that? You, and your precious little resurrected brother.”

“What. Did. This?” She had the audacity to laugh at Gabe then, and spat at him. He could smell a bit of blood in the saliva when it landed on his face, and just barely resisted the urge to lick it off.

“Go to Hell,” she whispered in his ear, voice venomous.

“Naw, not today. But what about you?” He shut his eyes, reaching out with his mind into the very core of the demon’s roiling black essence and yanking. She let out a high-pitched scream, fingers digging deeper into Gabriel’s wrists and drawing little pinpricks of blood, before the hunter felt the hot rush of smoke against his face as the monster was pulled from their vessel. Beneath the collapsed and undoubtedly dead human body, he felt the blackness attempting to escape skyward, but he caught her before it reached the ceiling, pulling her down into Hell. She struggled and screeched, filling his mind with nails-on-chalkboard scream, before the screams were muffled by the shutting of the Earth’s core behind her as she disappeared into the underworld.

Gabriel let out a deep breath, opening his eyes and pushing the corpse off of him. Somewhere off to his left, he heard a slow clapping.

“Good job, Gabriel. That was,” Kali looked down at a stopwatch that she held in her perfectly manicured hand, “Less than a minute. A new record.”

“But the girl died,” he protested as he knelt beside the empty body, shutting her eyelids. Kali shrugged.

“Her eyes were burnt out, I don’t think there was much chance of saving her even if she _had_ survived the exorcism.”

“Still-” Kali cut him off, rolling her eyes.

“Are you here to complain about your shortcomings or figure out how to kill demons?”

“You know I-”

“And what’s more important to you? Figuring out how to make sure that a demon’s gone for good or saving a few humans and letting that demon possess someone else?” She moved to stand by his side, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch, and she played with his hair. “We don’t have time for sentimentality, Gabriel,” she sighed.

“I know,” He let out a shuddering breath, “But I wish we did.”

She didn’t try and say that she thought the same, which was probably a good thing. He didn’t know if he could handle such an obvious lie. Instead she simply helped him stand, wrapping an arm around his waist and whispering some admittedly enticing promises in his ear. He let her lead him outside, where Lucifer was leaning against a wall and waiting for them. She let Gabriel kiss her, and he thought that he should probably be thankful that the only two people who knew about his less-than-stellar habits were so damn distracting.

* * *

Stoneman Elementary was located 23 miles south of downtown San Francisco. Closed years ago when the school district had to make major, the complex stood abandoned. The school had been Chuck’s first suggestion when Castiel asked him for the nearest safe empty space. The inside walls of room 25-B, the gymnasium, were covered with spray painted sigils. Most of it was black, except for a section that was pink when the black paint had run out.

“Is that all of them?” Castiel asked from the floor, flattening a corner of the tarp laid out with their weapons. His tone wasn’t comforting, but it was obvious he didn’t like performing such a dangerous ritual without his normal partner, who decided to run a restock trip on his ice cream van.

“I mean, we could write out the whole Bible here, but if this Decanusel wants to put pokers up our asses then there’s not much I can do,” Chuck huffed nervously, accidentally knocking over a spray can. He paused for a moment, picked up the can, and sprayed another symbol onto the wall. “Are you sure you wanna do this, Cas? I mean, that thing nearly killed Anna. It’s not going to be happy.”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, tone resolute.

Chuck sighed, “Our joint funeral, I guess.” He picked up the book of spells, already opened to a yellowed page, and read a passage over the summoning ingredients that had already been set out. His normally timid voice echoed through the open space, amplified by the power of his words.

Thunder sounded and Castiel stood, slipping his knife out of his pocket. A tree outside slapped against the high windows, and rain sloshed against the panes. The din filled his ears, drowning out the words of the ritual.

The sound of the storm outside was punctuated by a loud thud, as though a meteor had struck the heavy concrete roof. The floodlights sparked and shut off, leaving only the light from the outside street lamps, which cast a dim glow that failed to touch all the corners of the large room. Castiel turned to Chuck, who grasped the ends of his sleeves nervously, barely visible in the newly born shadows.

Suddenly, the gym doors slammed open and a dark figure stepped through. Castiel squinted to make out the shape. It looked to be a man taller than himself, in nondescript jeans and a flannel jacket. The hunter gripped his knife tighter, prepared to lunge at the summoned being.

"You know, I said not to summon me," the man- Decanusel, Castiel assumed- huffed, crossing his arms.

“You mean it worked?” Chuck piped up, excited.

“Nope. I actually just felt it was about time to say hi,” the creature laughed.

Castiel stabbed him.

The knife went clean into the man's shoulder, wedging between bone and muscle. Decanusel didn't flinch, even when Chuck shot him in the back with a shotgun loaded with rock salt. The man suddenly turned, and pressed two fingers to Chuck's head, who slumped to the floor, nearly hitting his head on the summoning bowl.

Castiel moved to help Chuck, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, he's fine, but we need to talk one-on-one," the creature implored.

Castiel took a step back, wiping his mouth off. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm the dude who broke your ass out of Hell, that's who," Decanusel huffed. He barely paid attention to Castiel, instead taking long looks at the symbols graffitied around the room.

"Yes, but what kind of creature are you?" Castiel demanded, reaching over to reclaim his knife.

Decanusel flinched back but, realizing what Castiel was attempting, pulled the knife out himself.

"I'm an angel," he stated plainly, offering Castiel his knife back.

Castiel eyed him warily as he took the knife back. "An angel," he parroted back.

"Yeah, an angel," The creature replied impatiently.

“Forgive me for being without faith,” Castiel shot back, “but I’d like you to prove that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Decanusel huffed, backing up a few steps, “Let me just stretch out a bit, wait for a bit of lightning-”

On cue, several bolts of lightning hit in the distance, illuminating the gym in short bursts. Shadowed behind the man were two semi-transparent wings, stretching at least a foot above his head and three feet to either side.

Castiel took a deep breath, processing the visual proof. His shoes squeaked on the gym floor as he decided what to say next. "What does an angel want with me? Are you planning to rob me of one of my senses like you did to Anna?" Castiel asked, lowering his knife hand to his side.

“Look, you think I’m happy about that?” The angel shot back angrily, “I told her to back down. It’s not my fault she’s pushy as shit.”

“Are angels allowed to swear?” Castiel wondered out loud, unable to help himself.

“You really think that’s the most important question on your Q and A list right now?”

Castiel glowered at him, squaring his stance. “Why was I rescued?” he asked, voice low and threatening. Decausel seemed unimpressed.

“As hard as it is to believe, I was actually ordered to,” He explained, shrugging. The gesture was awkward, almost human.

“Why would you be ordered to save me?” Castiel frowned, tilting his head suspiciously.

“Heaven needs you in the playing field. There’s a lot going on up there,” Decanusel made a vague upwards hand motion, “And down there,” A sweeping motion toward the floor, “There are wars to prevent, demons to fight.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh come on, Castiel. Have you ever read an Abrahamic holy text before? We’re all about our Righteous Men up in Heaven. And guess what, you’re the lucky winner!”

Castiel furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to ask again what the celestial creature was talking about, but groan from Chuck distracted him, and when he turned back, the gym was empty.

The rain continued to pour.


	2. The Lion and the Unicorn (4.02)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Gabriel investigate what appears to be a Hollywood werewolf attack. The case gets even stranger when another monster comes onto the scene, and both have a vendetta against the brothers.

Corbin Fisher was used to waiting at least half an hour for his sister to pick him up. Ever since their parents had given her sole control over the family’s second car, she had been diligent about picking him up from places, but negligent at being on time. It wasn’t that he was worried about being in Middletown late at night. The town was relatively safe, and he was built enough that no one considered messing with him, even late at night.

Corbin lounged on the curb outside the Pinkberry, checking his phone for the third time in half an hour. The wind whipped his hair wildly and pushed his hood off his head, shoving leaves across the road and rustling the bushes behind him. He yanked it back onto his head, trying to shrug off the cold. A dry bolt of lightning cracked far away, illuminating the sky. He jumped.

Nothing. It was nothing. He settled back down to wait, ignoring the sounds of night time, which seemed more and more ominous by the minute.

Something shifted in the bushes. Thunder rolled down the small town street. His skin prickling with fear, Corbin pulled out his phone, scrolling to his sister’s number in the contacts. His finger never hit the call button.

* * *

The Bennett brothers sat in the downstairs living room of the Shurley residence, the owner of the house having long disappeared to the grocery store for milk.

“Angels? As if. Are you sure he didn’t mean the baseball team?” Gabriel’s half-hearted attempt at a joke was ruined by the dark shadows under his eyes. He had returned home a few hours after Chuck and Castiel, back hunched and hands shaking. Cas, who was sitting in the living room at the time, followed him with his eyes as he stumbled down the stairs and into his room without so much as a word. The younger Bennett could feel that something in Gabe’s demeanor had shifted, but couldn’t identify it, and it added one more layer of awkwardness to their already somewhat stilted relationship.

“I’m fairly sure, Gabriel. He seemed,” Cas paused, unable to come up with a word to describe Decanusel. Divine was incorrect, regal a long shot, and the casual way the angel had knocked Chuck unconscious definitely eliminated holy, “Sincere,” He said finally, unhappy with how that sounded. Gabriel snorted.

“Right. Sincere. That might be enough for you, but I’d like a little more assurance.”

“He showed me his wings.”

“I’m pretty sure there are other monsters with wings. Real monsters,” Gabriel spat, ending the discussion. Castiel let out a deep sigh.

“Well, it isn’t as though it matters right now. He said I was meant to do something, but he never specified what. We can delay discussion of this topic until he returns. Then you can question him as much as you want,” Cas shrugged, watching Gabriel relax out of the corner of his eye.

“So what now?”

“We could find a hunt,” Castiel suggested absentmindedly, not looking especially enthusiastic.

Gabriel nodded, going to his room to retrieve his laptop. Castiel did the same, returning first. He typed in the first search term when Gabriel plopped down beside him, placed his feet on the coffee table, perched his computer on his knees and began typing in the uncomfortable position.

Time passed by with aggravating slowness, the first ten pages of every google search the brothers tried yielding nothing but a few amateur attempt to create urban legends. Castiel was about to give up and try his luck with the confusing possibility of angels once more when Gabriel fist pumped victoriously.

“Werewolf in Middletown, Maryland!”

“That’s a little...normal for your tastes.”

“No, I mean. It’s an actual werewolf. A horror movie werewolf. Look,” Gabriel turned his computer around, balancing it on his knees haphazardly. Cas squinted at the ludicrously dim screen. Gabe rolled his eyes, turning up the brightness to a somewhat reasonable level. Castiel nodded thankfully and began scanning the page.

The attacks seemed to start with small animals, but it quickly escalated to any unfortunate civilian caught outside after dark. The articles from the reputable town paper blamed it on a bear, but a local blogger stated otherwise. The author claimed to have interviewed a survivor, who said she was attacked by a giant wolf that walked on two legs.

“What do you think it is?” Cas leaned in to the screen, brow furrowed as though the text would somehow tell him its secrets. Gabriel shrugged.

“Shifter maybe? If I could turn into anything at all, I’d go for horror movie villain.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, either way we should head out now. Middletown is... 40 hours away, and I’d like to get through as much of California as possible before rush hour.”

“We should wait for Chuck,” Cas insisted. Gabriel gave him a confused look, as though suddenly disappearing on one of their oldest acquaintances - perhaps even friends - without a word was even remotely acceptable.

“He’ll be fine. Just leave a note.”

“That’s inconsiderate. He’ll be back soon. We can wait,” Gabriel opened his mouth to argue, but Cas stared him down.

“Fine.”

When Chuck returned ten minutes later, he seemed genuinely surprised that they had thought to tell him of their departure in person. Surprised, and a little relieved.

“No offense, guys, but you’ve been sitting on the couch and glaring at each other for three hours. Just, uh, don’t get killed while you’re gone,” he smiled, but it dropped when he realized what he had said, “Oh. Sorry, Cas, I just-”

“It’s fine, Chuck,” Cas waved the apology away. The other man seemed to accept it, but he still looked faintly guilty when he offered them a timid goodbye after they had packed. Cas stared at the house in the rearview mirror until they turned the corner, wondering exactly how much had changed with his death.

* * *

Cordelia Monroe, Gap shopkeeper and aspiring art teacher, chewed her lip anxiously. She didn’t think it was standard procedure for FBI agents to interview witnesses in cheap diners, but the intensity with which Agent Finletter was staring at her made it difficult to think of him as anything other than some sort of crime hunter extraordinaire.

Or a serial killer, but she had always tried to think the best of people.

“So what did you see?” Agent O’Grady, the smaller, more amicable looking one, asked.

“Oh,” She blinked, playing with the wrapper from her straw, “Umm, I already told the police officers.”

“Yes, but we have to file a report as well. Jurisdiction issues, you understand.”

That made sense, Cordelia supposed. Her favorite cop dramas always had jurisdiction come up. She pursed her lips, trying to figure out whether the sheriff or the agents were the protagonists of this particular case. Definitely the agents, she decided. They were much more photogenic. Which, unfortunately, meant that she had to make sure not to miss any details in her account. Witnesses who forgot key details always ended up dead.

“Well, I was just going to the Gap, you know, where I work,” She waved in the general direction of the mall.

“Why? It was the middle of the night,” Agent Finletter asked.

“Oh, umm. I forgot my bag in the back room when I got off-shift, but I know the manager well so he lent his keys to me,” The agent nodded, satisfied with her answer, “But anyway. I got to the Gap, and I saw Corbin waiting outside the PinkBerry.”

“You knew the victim?” Agent O’Grady was looking at her, like Finletter had before. She looked down, twiddling her thumbs.

“Yeah. I babysat him back when I was in high school. Corbin was a good kid. That’s his name. Corbin Fisher. I don’t think the police have released it yet...”

“Did you say,” one agent started, coughing suddenly in what seemed to be a concealed laugh, “Did you say Corbin Fisher?”

“Uh, yeah,” she responded, “Why?”

The dark-haired one interrupted before his partner could speak, “Sorry, my partner knows someone by that name. So you saw him outside the PinkBerry. What happened next?”

“I was going to go out and offer him a ride. His sister is, uh, was always late picking him up from things. But before I could...I saw something. It looked like ah, uh,” She hadn’t told the sheriff this, but...she had decided to tell the agents everything, “A werewolf,” She finished quickly, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.

“Could you clarify what, exactly, a werewolf looks like?” Agent Finletter wasn’t looking at her strangely yet, which was surprising, and also a very good sign.

“Well, you know. Like a wolf, only it stood on two legs and it, uh, had human arms. And it was bigger than a wolf. Way bigger. It, uh, jumped out of the bushes on the edge of the mall and it just. It just sort of. Umm. Ate him,” She looked at her coca cola, wishing she hadn’t been at the mall that night. Her hands were shaking, she noticed absentmindedly.

“Are you alright?” Agent O’Grady looked genuinely concerned, so she nodded.

“Do you have any other questions, agents?” Her voice sounded small in her ears.

“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Corbin?” Agent Finletter asked.

“No! I mean, like I said before, he was a great kid. And when he wasn’t, it was just teenager stuff, you know? Nothing that could get him killed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Thank you, Miss Monroe,” Agent O’Grady gave her a smile. The two men stood and left her to silently contemplate her soda.

* * *

Castiel was researching in their dim hotel room, waiting for his brother to return from the morgue. The light above him kept flickering rapidly, despite his attempts to screw it in properly. He checked his watch. Gabriel had been gone for four hours. Slightly concerned, but not actively worried, he removed his heavy, reliable Nokia phone from his pocket. As his hand touched the plastic, however, it began to ring.

“I was about to call you, Gabriel. Where have you been?”

“You’ll never guess what happened, little bro,” Cas could hear the smile in his brother’s voice.

“Another attack?”

“Another attack!”

“Was it the same monster?”

“Well, it’s not a shifter and it’s not a movie werewolf.”

“How do you know?” Castiel moved his phone to his shoulder, shifting his computer off his lap.

“Because I’m watching it on film right now. The victim was a film junkie, and he caught the whole thing on his flip phone. Luckily I swiped it before the sheriff noticed it was there. Not a silver eye in sight. And guess what did the deed this time.”

“What?”

“I have no idea!”

“What do you mean, Gabe?”

“It looks kind of like a lizard. But a flying lizard. A flying bird-lizard. With tentacles. And only one eye.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“There’s no way there’s a real monster that looks like that.”

“I’ll bring it to the hotel and you can see for yourself.”

“Please do,” The light bulb flickered some more. Cas glared at it.

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I put some gas in the truck.”

“You took the truck to the morgue?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“The ice cream truck?”

“I parked it a block away,” Gabe snorted, affronted.

Castiel sighed. “If you say so. Just hurry.”

“Of course. See ya.” The disconnection tone followed.

Cas returned his attention to the computer, typing in “flying bird lizard with tentacles and only one eye.” Unsurprisingly, this yielded no useful results. He continued searching, to no avail.

Five minutes of furious googling passed, and then the light flickered again.

The light went out.

Glass shattered behind the drawn curtains, a dark shape bursting into the room. The light sputtered back to life, fully illuminating the room for the first time all day.

Cas grabbed the gun from the nightstand, aiming it at the creature’s head.

“Well, I suppose movie werewolf is one way to describe you,” he muttered under his breath. The monster let out a low growl, spit dripping from its half-opened mouth onto the carpet. The thick black hair that covered its body bristled as it slowly stalked toward the hunter.

“I’m fairly sure this won’t kill you, but if you’re sentient at all I doubt you will appreciate being shot,” Cas warned. The monster ignored him, its pace quickening. He fired. The wolf let out an angry growl as dark blood began seeping from its chest. Another shot. It howled, collapsing in on itself and dropping to the ground. Cas jumped from the bed, grabbing his laptop and sprinting to the door. He could hear the monster shifting behind him, but he didn’t look back, instead opening the door and running from the premises as quickly as possible. He only stopped when the dry taste of metal in his throat prevented him from continuing any further.

Once he had recovered his breath, Castiel removed the phone from his pocket, dialing his brother.

No answer.

He swore quietly, sent a text, and then began the long trek to the nearest gas station.

* * *

Gabriel paid for his gasoline, waiting impatiently for the machine to read his card. It let out a cantankerous beep, rejecting his purchase and spitting the card back out. He frowned and shoved it in again.

There was a loud scratching noise behind him. He turned. Nothing but the gas station, perfectly intact. He looked up.

If he were hard pressed to give the monster a name, he’d say it was a dragon. It was shaped like a giant, winged lizard. But the tentacles that sprouted from its back and the single, red rimmed eye at the center of its forehead...that was something he’d never read in a fairy tale.

Its razor claws dug into the roof of the gas station, and he could hear confused screaming from inside. Not knowing what to do, he pulled the gun from his waistband and aimed.

“Do you honestly think that will help?” Gabriel spun in the direction of the voice. Kali lounged against the side of the truck, examining her nails.

“This is a bit of a cliché entrance, don’t you think?” he joked. She looked up at him, unimpressed.

“Is me saving your life cliché? If so, I can stop. Wouldn’t want to cheapen the narrative.”

“What? Do you know how to kill this thing?” Kali shrugged.

“Not at all. But I do know how to run away,” At that, she opened the door of the truck. Then she waved her hand, and he found himself being psychically pushed into the passenger’s seat. He turned to his left and, sure enough, she was seated behind the wheel.

Somehow, when they took off, the cap on the gas tank closed itself.

“We can’t leave, Kali. Those people might die.”

“If you stay and insist on trying to save everyone, then you and those people will die. Which would you prefer? Actually, don’t answer that. I’m the one driving, so I get to choose.”

“But-” Kali’s glare silenced him.

“I’m going to stop the car and let you take the wheel. But only if you promise not to go back there and be stupid.”

“I promise,” He was aware that he sounded childishly sullen. He didn’t care. Apparently he sounded sincere, as well (which he was less sure of), because she pulled over and put her foot on the brakes. They switched positions, and Gabriel began to drive toward the hotel. Kali stared at the side mirror contemplatively.

“I’m going to be lying low,” Kali said after a minute. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What?”

“That angel, Decanusel-”

“Wait, so he is an angel?”

“Yes. And because he’s an angel, me and my whole species are on his shit list. So you,” She jabbed one perfectly manicured finger in his direction, “Will be continuing to fight the good fight and I will be staying far away from feathers and your little brother.”

Gabe opened his mouth to protest, but caught sight of said brother out of the corner of his eye. Cas was trudging down the street, laptop in one hand, looking even more disgruntled than usual. Gabriel turned to tell Kali to leave, but the seat was already empty.

* * *

Gabriel carefully nudged open the door to the hotel room, making sure whatever Cas had wounded earlier had already left. After meeting up again, the brother had decided to return to the hotel to salvage what was left of their luggage. Thankfully, Gabe kept most of his clothes in the van and Castiel’s duffel was by the door, so nothing was lost in the wreckage of their room.

What was lost was a decent amount of time to inspect the damage: the Bennetts left quickly, knowing the police were likely on their way.

They parked the van by a Starbucks about two miles away, tagging onto the coffee shop’s free wifi. Gabriel sat himself on the freezer holding the vanilla and the chocolate, and propping his laptop up on the serving counter

“I think the first thing we should determine is if these two creatures are somehow connected,” Castiel suggested, sitting on the floor with his own laptop on his lap.

Gabriel nodded, taking a sip of his raspberry mocha, but not responding. A few minutes later, he hopped down, spinning his computer to face Castiel.

“Snallygaster,” he declared, proud of himself.

“Bless you,” Cas answered, continuing to search.

“No, that’s its name. It’s called the Snallygaster. According to the site, our scaly friend stirred up enough trouble to attract the attention of the Smithsonian, back in the day. They put out a reward for it when it first appeared,” Gabriel explained, scrolling the article. “It looks like its main roost is Braddock Heights, so if we take the van over there to probably the most boring and stuffy looking library there is, we could find out more about this thing than we could surfing the digital ocean of amateur porn and cat videos.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, turning to close his laptop.

* * *

“Snallygaster,” Castiel read aloud, turning the pages of the binder full of fading newspapers. “A dragon-like monster with tentacles and one eye, sighted on and off since the early 1700s. Reportedly drowned in a vat of whiskey in 1932,” Castiel finished, impressed, before turning to Gabe, “You have to admire the library for being this organized.”

Gabriel shrugged, leaning over to look over Castiel’s shoulder, “Jury’s still out having a smoke. So we know what this thing is, and when it’s been showing up. What’s it got to do with the werewolf?”

“That’s the thing,” Castiel continued, pulling another binder towards him, “I’m sure the fake werewolf is the Dwayyo, a monster that looks like a B-horror werewolf. These papers report it being sighted in 1965, and on and off since then. There’s a report here of it being sighted fighting what appeared to be a dragon-like creature, but that’s it. None of the sightings seemed to occur at the same time, except for some dubious claims of witnesses seeing them fight. It’s almost as if only one monster was around at a time,” Castiel sighed, closing both binders.

“Well, that’s more than we had before,” Gabriel admitted, scrolling on his phone, “The internet says you can repel the Snallygaster with a seven-pointed star. That’s as much of a lead as we have right now. We’ll just have to try normal silver bullets on the Dwayyo,” He stood up, making his way out the door, and leaving Castiel to put away their materials.

* * *

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“We are not staying at a pirate themed motel, Gabriel,” Cas knew arguing was useless. The only reason he had gotten around staying at Hidden Cove when they first got into town was that they had arrived at one A.M. In the early hours of the morning Gabriel was easily convinced, but in daylight there was no dissuading him from his obsession with themed hotels.

Paying for the room was uneventful, and soon the unimpressed, costumed teen behind the front desk was handing them a key to number 115.

When they reached their room, the door swung open to discover it was not as empty as would be expected. Ava sat pristinely on the bed closest to the window, one leg over the other. She looked impossibly dignified for someone sitting on a piece of furniture shaped like a pirate boat. She nodded at the two of them.

“Bennett. Smaller and less pleasant Bennett,” she greeted. She smiled radiantly at them, eyes flashing white.

“You’re one to talk,” Gabriel grinned, far less genuine and far more venomous. He pulled a knife from his pocket, a crude, serrated weapon with sigils carved in the blade.

“Oh, put the knife away. I’m not here to kill you.”

“Then why? There’s no way this is a social visit,” Gabriel pointed his weapon menacingly. Ava squirmed, as though it were a real threat to her. Cas felt his eyebrows rise.

“It actually is. Of a sort.” She leaned back, putting her weight on her hands, “I came to reminisce about old times. Oh, those were fun. Remember Agent Virgil Maro? I remember Virgil,” Cas saw Gabriel’s hand tighten around the handle of the knife, “So you did, he was dead? I wasn’t sure. But I bet you don’t know how he died.”

“Seeing as you’ve graced us with your presence, I can guess,” Cas said through clenched teeth. She laughed.

“I’m sure you can! But I’ll tell you anyway. I locked up him and everyone else in that stupid little police station, and I tortured them until they died. Which, honestly? Not that long. I forget sometimes how breakable you humans are. It was hardly any fun at all. Well, except for that pretty secretary. She was fun. I flayed her alive, and she screamed like a good little girl,” Ava sighed fondly.

“And why did you feel the need to tell us this?”

“Because you two are getting boring. You need something to pump you up, get you mad. Complacent Bennetts are dull Bennetts,” She looked them over, taking in the tension in Gabriel’s jaw and the subtle narrowing of Cas’ eyes, “And would you look at that? I succeeded! Which means my day was a success. Alright, now back to your scheduled programming. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your little hunt. Bye bye,” Cas moved to intercept her, but then he blinked and she was gone. He turned to look at Gabriel. Gabriel let out a huff.

“She was afraid of that knife,” Cas said, quietly. Gabe looked down at it as though he had forgotten it was there.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, I...It can kill demons,” The last half of the sentence came out of Gabriel’s mouth in a rush.

“What? But nothing can kill a demon.”

“This can. I got it while you were dead. I had a guy make it for me.”

“If he can make something like that, why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“We...don’t talk anymore,” Gabriel’s expression closed off completely, and he sulked over to his bed, collapsing into it and staring forlornly at the ceiling. Cas didn’t want to drop the issue, but the tone in his brother’s voice allowed no room for argument. The brothers sat in silence for minutes, which stretched into hours.

“I’ll go get us some dinner,” Castiel said, once the quiet grew too oppressive for his liking.  Gabriel said nothing, “Then we should start the hunt.”

* * *

Castiel stalked through the forest, taking slow, careful steps to avoid giving away his position with a crunch of pine needles. The wickedly curved blade, newly engraved with seven seven-pointed stars, was a heavy weight in his palm, and a comfort in the dark woods. He could hear Gabriel breathing over his shoulder, deliberately slow inhalations and exhalations that were almost swallowed by the quiet patter of rain around them. Small, cold droplets slipped under the collar of his shirt, soaking and chilling him.

A noise broke the monotonous static of wood noise. It was low and quiet at first, but it quickly grew louder, into a cacophonous wail, two inhuman voices clashing for domination of the air around them. Cas turned to his brother. Gabriel took one hand from the rifle he was carrying and made a series of hand motions. Castiel nodded and began to move more quickly. The soggy fall leaves beneath his feet didn’t provide very good traction, but he remained on his feet despite the slippery foliage.

He slowed to a stop at the edge of the clearing, sharing a look with his brother. The two monsters circled each other in the dark, moonless night, already injured from the fighting. The Dwayyo’s yellow eyes gleamed even in the cloudy darkness, more like a cat’s than a dog’s, mouth curled up in a snarl. Blood flecked its teeth and its claws, matting its fur in clumps. Its arm, rippling with muscles, hung limply at its side.

The Snallygaster turned from its nemesis, glaring at the brothers. Tentacles protruded from its back, under its wings, levitating in the air and flailing about. The wings were hunched together, fragile skin ripped in places. It let out a steam whistle scream and the tentacles lunged at Cas, wrapping around his wrist before he could back out of its range. Its grip tightened, bone crushing, until he dropped his weapon, hissing in pain. Gabriel aimed at the eye in the Snallygaster’s forehead, finger moving onto the trigger.

The Dwayyo moved, a dark shadow, tackling Gabe to the ground and removing the gun from his grip, almost gently. It growled at him, leaning in so that the tip of its long nose almost touched the hunter’s cheek. It sniffed, then let out a disgusted snort. It leaned back and, before he could blink, backhanded Gabriel across the face. He went still. Castiel struggled with the grip on his wrist, straining to retrieve his weapon and help his brother, but the slimy hold would not relent. It yanked him into the air, examining him with its single, wide eye for a moment before flinging him against a tree.

He let out a yelp of pain, vision blurring for a moment as his head and back slammed against the tree, sending tendrils of agony through his whole body. He crumpled to the ground, breathing ragged. He looked up at the two creatures, expecting one of them to lunge at him, but no blows came. Instead, they returned to their deadly dance, gazes radiating pure hatred.

The Dwayyo lunged, razor teeth digging into the Snallygaster’s neck. The flying creature retaliated with sharp talons to its opponent's face. The two creatures tumbled to the ground, Castiel unable to tell who pushed whom to the damp forest floor. The Snallygaster was on top first, tentacles wrapping around the Dwayyo’s throat. Then the wolf achieved dominance, unable to remove the asphyxiating appendages but succeeding in keeping a hold of the other monster’s jugular.

The Snallygaster’s wings shot out, clods of dirt shooting into the air. It screeched, its one eye wide and bloodshot. The Dwayyo ceased its attempts at biting its opponent to death and instead clawed at the single orb, rending it to bloody tissue. The Snallygaster responded by lifting the Dwayyo into the air, bashing it back and forth like a rag doll. The doglike creature let out howls of agony, its already injured flesh becoming more and more battered until it eventually went still. The Snallygaster let out a victorious crow, depositing the corpse unceremoniously onto the ground. It attempted to sit, but Cas saw the blood running in a copper river down its neck and knew that it would be too weak. Instead, it twitched, letting out a final, mournful call, and fell still.

Cas watched the two creatures, sure they were dead but unable to fully trust the inconceivable idea that he and his brother had somehow survived. It was only when Gabriel moaned that he was able to tear his gaze away, wincing at the sparks of pain that continued to dance through his nerve endings. He knew moving would only cause him further problems. Instead, he turned his eyes to the horizon, taking in the stars as they glittered, escaping one by one from the retreating cloud cover. The natural sounds of the forest, absent before, resumed as though a battle had not just been fought. The unseasonably cold rain ceased, leaving Castiel alone with the constellations above and the serenade of nocturnal wildlife.

After a few minutes, Gabriel stood up, heavy booted footsteps making their way to Cas’ side. Castiel turned to his brother, who offered a hand. Together, the two of them trudged from the forest, aching but alive.

* * *

The kitchy pirates painted in the hallway didn’t seem quite as cheery and fun as when the two had first checked into the hotel. Castiel helped Gabriel down the hall. The older brother shrugged off his head injury, but still managed to smack his face on a fake palm tree. Castiel dug out the key to their room, unlocking the door as Gabriel wandered off to the bathroom.

“You broke a seal,” a voice called out from the darkness, making both brothers jump. Castiel pulled out his knife, and Gabriel struggled with the bathroom door. “Whoa, hold up, it’s just me,” the voice continued.

Castiel frowned, turning to flip on the light. Standing in the middle of the room, wearing the same clothes as he had at the school, was Decanusel. The hunter lowered his knife, walking farther into the room.

“Is this him?” Gabriel asked from the door, gesturing with his rifle. “You didn’t tell me he looked like he walked straight out of Brokeback Mountain. First Ava, now this...”

Castiel sighed, ignoring his brother. He eyed Dean up and down, biting the inside of his cheek, “Usually, people don’t break into hotel rooms. In case you weren’t aware of normal human customs,” he pointed out, approaching Dean.

Dean shrugged him off, stepping to the side to let him pass. “Usually, hunters can hold their own in hunts, especially when dealing with cases this important,” he retorted.

“This case wasn’t important,” Castiel frowned, throwing his jacket onto the bed.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Dean insisted, “The Dwayyo and the Snallygaster aren’t supposed to be awake at the same time. And if they are, they aren’t supposed to be able to fight to the death. The rivalry between them is one of Earth’s constants, and them killing each other violates the laws of existence. So congrats, you letting them broke a seal.”

“A seal?” Gabriel supplied, putting his gun away.

The room grew colder, a tree slapping against the window, “You don’t know?” He asked, then laughed, “Of course you don’t. Just my luck,” He let out an exasperated sigh, a brief flash of irritation in his green eyes before he could cover it up with his usual mask of emotionless cockiness, “This is what angels are throwing themselves on spears here on Earth to stop,” Seeing the confused faces on the two brothers, he continued on, “There’s a certain number of events that can occur, which will break seals that have been in place since the dawn of humanity. The first and the last are set in stone, but if you were to break just under sixty-six of them, well,” He trailed off.

“What?” Castiel asked, voice quiet. Decanusel smiled a bitter, empty smile.

“Then we’ll have the end of the world on our hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly a filler episode, since we didn't want to do the same first seal case. The monsters in this case are the [Snallygaster](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snallygaster) and the [Dwayyo](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dwayyo). Title is a reference to [The Lion and the Unicorn](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lion_and_the_Unicorn#Nursery_rhyme), the famous English nursery rhyme.  
> We're sorry we took so long with this one! Summer is a busy time for us. Thank you for sticking with us!

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to the myth of how the [Greek goddess Aphrodite](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aphrodite#Birth) was born: by springing forth from the ocean, and being clothed by sea nymphs.


End file.
